


Coming to Terms at the Turn of the Decade

by sarahyellow



Series: OmegaHouse [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1949-Christmas time, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Comfort Sex, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scenting, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyellow/pseuds/sarahyellow
Summary: Things've been confusing between them ever since his heat. Bucky had given Steve what he’d needed, and Steve’s been feeling indebted to him ever since. He’s got newfound respect for Bucky. And… maybe something else. He hasn’t put a name to it yet, has been too afraid to. But it’s been plaguing his thoughts.According to House rules it’s probably inappropriate, but neither one of them knows what to do about it.





	1. Night Terrors

Steve is startled awake sometime in the middle of the night by the sound of Clint cursing. 

“What the fuck? Oh, shit.”

Steve blinks his eyes open blearily, sleep-stupid. “Whassit?” he slurs into the darkness.

“Steve wake up. It’s James. He’s fucking, he’s… something’s wrong.” 

It takes another few seconds, but then Steve’s nose twitches at the scent of distressed alpha. The sharp stink of it pollutes the air of their little room. It makes him screw up his face, wakes him up fully and he sits up in bed, alarmed. Bucky is standing in the middle of their room looking glass-eyed and panicked. “Bucky?” Steve says, baffled. He's shirtless, which makes no sense since it's mid-December now and the House's shitty heating makes it far too cold for that. "Bucky what’re you doing?” 

“I don’t think he’s awake?” Clint says. He gives Steve a weird look at him having used the name ‘Bucky.’ “What’d you call him?”

Steve shakes his head. “Never mind.” He flings his bedcovers aside, getting up cautiously. There is a low, distressed growl coming out in a steady rumble from Bucky’s chest. He’s tense and he’s shaking the tiniest bit. Steve can smell how afraid he is. “He’s sleepwalking,” Steve concludes, glancing over to Clint. “A nightmare.” He’s sat up in his bed as well, looking concerned but also freaked-out. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. He has them a lot.” Steve ignores Clint’s expression at that. He doesn’t know how to explain how he knows this about Bucky without revealing a whole lot of other personal information that he knows Bucky would probably rather he kept private. “Just… trust me,” Steve says.

“Sure, sure. Whatever. What are you gonna do?” Clint asks. “I heard it’s bad to wake ‘em up when people sleepwalk. And he’s fucking on edge man.”

“Yeah.” Steve takes a shaky breath. It feels dangerous with Bucky in the room. He’s clearly terrified in his sleep. He’s sweaty, distressed, dressed only in his night pants. His chest is heaving in unsteady breaths. “I can’t just leave him like this,” he says. He takes a hesitant step towards the middle of the room where Bucky’s standing. “Buck?” he says gently. No response. Steve shoots a worried glance to Clint, who shrugs helplessly. 

“If you touch him and he freaks out…” he warns.

Steve knows it’s risky. He has to do something though. He can’t stand the way that Bucky smells, the obvious pain that he’s in. He has to do something. “Hey,” he says gently, getting close to Bucky and reaching out. He puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Bucky, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Bucky’s growl deepens a little and it makes Steve’s pulse pick up. 

“ _Steve_ ,” Clint hisses. 

Steve doesn’t answer him. All of his focus is on Bucky now. He reaches up with one hand and touches at his own neck, rubbing on his scent gland to stimulate it. He’s just come down from his heat and he’ll still be scenting pretty strong, he knows. He rubs himself, trying to get Bucky to recognize him. “Bucky come on.” He purposefully makes a whining sound, the sound of a distressed omega. “Wake up Buck, _Alpha_ , I need you.” He steps fully into Bucky’s space and presses himself against his chest. Bucky growls loudly and both of his hands are suddenly on Steve, his flesh and metal fingers gripping him by his upper arms. Steve whimpers for real then, afraid. Bucky is gripping him _hard_. It hurts.

Clint gets out of his bed. “I’m getting Nat.”

“No, wait.”

“He’s gonna hurt you!” Clint hisses. 

“He won’t,” Steve says. He’s completely not sure of that, but he needs to try. He presses further in against Bucky, submitting to his rough hold on him. “Bucky you’re okay,” he says. He tips his head so that Bucky can nose at his neck. He does and after a second or two it seems to calm him. The growl in his chest lessens, fading away. His scent calms. “That’s it,” Steve exhales shakily. He dares to put his hands around Bucky’s back and hug him. He’s slick with cooling sweat, but Steve just holds him tight, scratching his nails against the skin of Bucky’s lower back. “Wake up,” he says again, this time with more firmness in his voice.

Somehow it seems to do the trick. Bucky shudders against Steve, and then he inhales sharply. His posture shifts into alertness. He’s awake. “What…” he breathes, sounding confused.

“Shh,” Steve says. “It’s alright. You had a nightmare.” He lets his arms loosen on Bucky’s body. “You came in here,” he says. “Had to wake you up.”

Bucky pulls back from Steve, looking upset at the place where he’d been gripping him so harshly. “Jesus,” he hisses. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Steve offers a weak smile. “Yeah I’m fine.”

Clint clears his throat where he’s standing. Steve and Bucky’s eyes shoot over. “You guys okay?” he asks them.

Steve blushes, embarrassed. “Yeah.”

Clint shuffles awkwardly, then starts heading toward the door. “I’m gonna go to Quill’s room,” he mumbles. “Give you two some space.”

“Clint no, you don’t have to—”

“S’fine.” Clint looks nervously at Bucky. “Glad you’re okay,” he tells him. 

Bucky winces a smile at his other omega charge. “Thanks Clint.”

Clint shrugs his bathrobe on and leaves the room, shutting the door behind himself, then Steve and Bucky are left to size each other up in the quiet. Bucky speaks first, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I came in here.”

“Yeah, who knows?” It’s a lie, they both know it. Steve only checked out of their heat suite two days ago. It’s been confusing between them ever since. They’ve both been unable to avoid the other. It’s like there’s a draw between them now. According to House rules it’s probably inappropriate, and neither one of them know what to do about it. Steve looks down to the tops of his bare feet, not knowing what to say. “You were so terrified,” he eventually says. He peeks up at Bucky, seeing how vulnerable he looks. It makes him want to hold him again. “What were you dreaming about?”

Bucky frowns. “The war. Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, okay.” It’s now that Steve notices how Bucky’s still shaking slightly. His heart sinks and he reaches out to take Bucky’s metal hand in his own. Bucky flinches at the touch to his prosthetic but Steve just ignores it. “Come here,” he says gently. Bucky is stiff like he might refuse, but when Steve pulls their bodies closer together he goes willingly. He’s cold against Steve, the sweat having cooled on his body. “You’re cold,” Steve tells him. He lets Bucky nose into his neck to use his scent to calm him. Steve purrs at the contact.

“I shouldn’t be in here,” Bucky is breathing against him, though he isn’t stopping himself from touching Steve. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. He’s got no idea where this is coming from, but he wants Bucky to stay. Some part of his hindbrain isn’t willing to let his alpha go off on his own just yet, not when he’s as vulnerable as this. “Come lie down for a sec, okay?” he asks.

Bucky makes a rumble in his chest at that. He wants it, it’s very clear. But he pulls away slightly from Steve. He reaches up and puts a hand to his face, thumb rubbing at his jaw. Steve purrs into it and Bucky’s brow pinches. He looks torn. “You don’t have to do this just for me,” he says. “I can go. I’ll be okay.”

Steve makes a disapproving noise. He takes Bucky’s hand from his face and squeezes their fingers together. Things are so different since his heat, it’s crazy how different it feels between them now. “Don’t be stupid,” he says. “Come on.” He tugs Bucky to follow along with him. He climbs into his bed and hold back the covers as Bucky climbs in right after him. He’s still holding himself stiffly, unsure. 

“Steve,” he hedges, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Shut up, will ya?” Steve says tersely. He’s confused enough as it is by what’s happening between them. It’s hard to force himself not to question it. He’s trying to do what feels right and he doesn’t need Bucky putting doubt in his mind. Besides, he’s embarrassed by what he’s doing and he just needs to bury himself in the comfort of his alpha. He tucks himself against Bucky’s side, pulling the blankets up around them. “Just relax,” he says. 

It takes a minute, but Bucky softens against him and he starts to scent more content. “Okay,” he murmurs. He’s looking down at Steve in the dark. “If you’re sure.”

“You were so scared,” Steve tells him. He’s pushing against the side of Bucky’s chest, face against his pec. He can’t bring himself to meet Bucky’s gaze. “It was awful.”

“You shouldn’t have woken me up,” Bucky chides. “Could’a hurt you.”

“I couldn’t leave you like that. You were hurting.”

Bucky grumbles but he doesn’t stop touching Steve. He’s got his arm around him, and he snakes it further so that he’s holding him tightly. It’s comforting and they both relax into it. “…Thank you,” he eventually murmurs. It’s quiet and unsure, but it’s there. “Do you think… I mean since Clint left…”

Steve hums. “Want you to stay,” he says. He lets his hand roam over Bucky’s chest, down over his abs. He can feel the way Bucky gasps through the clench of his muscles. “You want that?”

Bucky inhales sharply at the touch, his scent spikes, and this time it’s not in fear. He twitches. “Yeah,” he says lowly. “Steve what’re you…”

“Shh.” Steve lets his hand continue down lower, over the top of Bucky’s pajama pants. “I want…” he hardly knows—no, that’s a lie. He does know what he wants. Below, his fingers curl over the edge of the waistband. “Can I touch you?” he breathes. 

Bucky moans, a soft, unintended sound. “You don’t have to,” he says, though it’s clear that he wants him to. His hips twitch up slightly. “I—”

Steve slides his hand under the fabric, making Bucky’s words cut off in a sigh. “I want to,” he repeats. His fingers find Bucky’s penis. It’s soft against his thigh but Steve can smell how aroused he’s becoming. It’s heady and he wants more of that smell. Beneath his hand, Bucky twitches. “That’s it,” Steve says, voice barely a whisper. He’s hard in his own sleep pants but he ignores it in favor of focusing on the way Bucky’s firming up beneath his touch. His large, alpha cock feels good in Steve’s hand. It feels right. “Let me make you feel good,” he says. Bucky shudders. “You deserve to feel good.”

“Yeah?” Bucky breathes.

Steve kisses his pec lightly, presses further up against him and curls his fingers around his length. “Yeah,” says. He’s thinking about two days ago, about the hours Bucky spent satisfying him through his heat. They hadn’t paired; Bucky had remembered his wishes and had restrained himself from taking advantage of Steve when he’d been in the most desperate stages of his heat. But he’d given Steve what he’d needed. Steve’s been feeling indebted to him ever since. He’s got newfound respect for Bucky. And… maybe something else. He hasn’t put a name to it yet, has been too afraid to. But it’s been plaguing his thoughts. “Thank you,” he whispers against Bucky’s skin, even as he’s beginning to stroke his cock which has firmed up enough for him to do so. “For what you did. For not doing more than I wanted.” He’s blushing fiercely but he knows that Bucky can’t see, which helps him to admit, “I know I was asking for it at some point.” He vaguely remembers it. The fog of his heat had gotten bad, and it clouds his memory a lot, but he knows he’d asked Bucky to fuck him.

“You would’ve regretted it,” Bucky is saying, though his voice has gone breathy with pleasure. He’s pushing his hips up against Steve’s hold. His flesh arm is tightening against Steve’s back to hold him more firmly to his side. “Didn’t want you to— _ah_ —didn’t want you to hate me.”

Steve huffs but he doesn’t say anything. “I don’t hate you,” he admits. His own hips have started up a slow grind against Bucky’s side. “…Never did.” Bucky growls a little at that. His hand tightens at Steve’s back and when Steve gasps Bucky turns over to lay on top of him. Steve _mewls_. “Bucky...”

“Shh,” Bucky says. He settles over Steve, legs bracketing his own. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Oh Bucky, yes.”

Bucky lies down and kisses him. It’s hesitant, but Steve responds eagerly to it and that makes Bucky thrust his hips down. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. His hands find Bucky’s upper arms, gripping him there. Bucky growls and rolls his hips down. Their cocks rub together, and the friction is nearly unbearable. Steve feels himself getting wet against the back of his sleep pants. “ _Oh_ ,” he gasps as Bucky moves, not stopping the rhythm he’s got going. Steve can’t help but to move up against him too. “Yes,” he hisses. It feels so good. He’s never been touched by an alpha outside of heat. It’s entirely different; maybe better, since he can work into it with a clear mind. “Bucky,” he sighs into the small space between their faces. Bucky grunts and buries his face in Steve’s neck. He licks and nips at Steve’s scent gland and it makes Steve purr. “Fuck.”

Their hips don’t stop moving. They’re gripping each other tightly, faces buried in each other’s necks and rutting desperately. Steve is embarrassingly close to coming. “Bucky,” he gasps. “Oh, I’m gonna.” Bucky just ruts harder against him. He obviously doesn’t care. He’s hard as a rock against Steve and probably close himself too. Steve cries out a moment later, hips stuttering against Bucky’s own as he comes, sticky and hot inside his pajama pants. “Oh!” he cries. “Oh _mm_ ’god!”

Bucky growls loudly and his grip tightens, his thrusts get rougher. He’s grunting and soon he’s spilling against Steve’s stomach. Steve can feel the wetness on his skin and when he reaches between their bodies to touch, he can feel how the head of Bucky’s cock has slipped past his waistband. Steve groans. “Jesus.”

Bucky shudders as he comes down from his orgasm. He slumps against Steve’s body. They’re both breathing heavily, sweaty and spent. Neither one of them says anything as they relax into the bed together. Bucky eventually slides off of Steve, pulling him into his arms to rest more comfortably. Steve means to say something, but he winds up mulling it over in his head too long, and before he can decide on what to say, he’s falling asleep.


	2. Mid-December

It’s December fifteenth. Far too late to be putting up Christmas lights, in Steve’s opinion. A lot of the other buildings on their block have had lights up for weeks now. So he’s helping to decorate the outside of the House in cheerful, brightly-colored bulbs. He’s up on a ladder, staple gun in hand and trying to reach the very peak of the roof.

Below, Peter is telling him to be careful. “If you die, I’m not going up there to take over the job!” he calls up to Steve.

Steve just huffs. “Calm down Parker. I’m not going to— _ah!_ ” He loses his footing on the ladder and his heart lurches as he begins to fall. _That’s it_ , he thinks. He’s finally done it. He’s going to die. 

Only he doesn’t hit the ground. He lands in someone’s arms with an _oof!_ and far less pain than he’d anticipated. Pulse still through the roof, Steve peeks his eyes open. …And sees Rumlow smirking down at him. “Careful,” he says, sounding more amused than he should. Steve growls and wiggles to get out of his hold. Rumlow lets him go after a beat, but not soon enough for Steve’s pride to be intact. Steve makes a point to not say thank you. Rumlow doesn’t seem to care.

“Steve!” 

Steve turns his head, it’s Darcy. She’s approaching with wide eyes.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

Steve nods, straightening himself and tugging the sleeves of his coat back down. He shoots Rumlow a rueful look. “M’fine,” he mumbles. Darcy nods, and Steve catches her looking at Brock in an apprehensive way. He frowns. Darcy has always acted weird around Rumlow, has seemed more intimidated by him than anyone else. Steve doesn’t know why; she’s not really the type to be intimidated by anyone. 

“Darce,” Rumlow says, smirking at her. “How’ve ya been doll?”

Darcy frowns and Steve has to raise an eyebrow at the familiar way Brock’s addressed her. “Stay away from me,” Darcy tells him, voice quiet. Steve can smell a scared scent coming off of her. It’s concerning, to say the least.

“Now is that any way to talk to a guy who just saved your friend’s neck?” 

Darcy blushes and looks away. “You’re not supposed to be near me,” she nearly whispers. “Go away. Please.”

Brock huffs, but he does back off. He steps away, sparing Steve one last glance. “Try not to die Rogers,” he says. “Otherwise I’ll have to be hanging those damn black banners up over Christmas.”

Steve frowns heavily but doesn’t say anything. He’s just glad Brock hasn’t decided to hang around and spoil their fun at decorating. He turns back around to regard Darcy. “What was that about?” he asks. “Why’d you say he’s supposed to stay away from you?”

Darcy does not look like she wants to talk about it. “Nevermind,” she says. She shoves her gloved hand out at him. In it is a card and a pen. 

“What’s this?” Steve asks, taking it.

“We’re getting James a present for Christmas,” Darcy explains. “Everybody’s chipping in and signing the card.”

Steve swallows. He hadn’t known about this. They haven’t done it in previous years. “Okay,” he says. He opens the card to see over a dozen other signatures in it. Some people have written short notes wishing Bucky a happy holiday season. Steve feels flummoxed at what to write. “Um…” he pauses with the pen over the card, then decides to just scribble down his name and a “merry Christmas” underneath. It hardly seems like enough, given what’s transpired between them in the past week, but he doesn’t feel like he can do more in a card that everyone on the hall is signing. “There.” He hands the card and the pen back to Darcy. She takes them.

“Great. Now how much are you going to put towards his gift?”

“What are you getting him?”

“We think a watch,” she says. “You think he’d like that?”

Steve blushes. “I don’t know. How would I know?”

Darcy raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “How much are you giving?” she says again.

“Here.” Steve digs his wallet out of his back pocket, thumbs through the bills inside. He hands over twenty dollars.

Darcy looks surprised. She gives Steve an amused quirk of the lips. “You do know there are twenty three of us on the hall,” she says. “We weren’t planning on buying him a Rolex.” 

Steve blushes but he waves her off. “Yeah well… I make a fair amount at the bookstore.” It’s kind of a lie, but that’s fine. “Keep it. You can get him something really nice.”

Darcy looks unimpressed at his explanation but she winds up shrugging her shoulders. “Okay. It’s your money.” She pockets the money and starts walking away. “You should tell him how you feel,” she calls out over her shoulder as she’s pushing through the House’s front doors. “It’d be cheaper.” 

Steve would say something back to that, but by the time he finds his voice she’s disappeared inside.

.oOo.

Steve is standing by the wall that holds his display of artwork. He sees Clint from across the room and waves. He’s coming over. “Hey,” Steve says. “You came.”

Clint snorts. “Of course I did. This is your big day.”

Steve wants to roll his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” It’s the winter arts showcase. Steve’s still a Junior, but all of his professors had recommended he be allowed to show his artwork from that semester along with all of the Seniors who’re doing their final projects. It’s an uncommon allowance and it’s incredibly flattering to Steve. But he waves Clint off. “S’not that big of a deal.” 

Clint shakes his head at him but brokers no further argument. Instead, he moves to look at Steve’s drawings and paintings. “These are so good,” he says, sounding genuinely amazed. “I can’t hardly draw a stupid stick figure.” He grins at Steve. “You’re something else Rogers.”

Steve blushes but thanks him. He’s very good at what he does. He knows that. It’s just difficult accepting this kind of praise. “Thanks pal,” he says. “How’d things go with Natasha?”

Clint smiles widely. “Great. The House approved her petition for temporary custody to take me to her folks’ place in Connecticut for the holidays.”

“Oh that’s great Clint!”

Clint is obviously happy about it, but he diverts his attention back to Steve’s work. “These really are great Stevie. You should be proud.” 

“Which one’s your favorite?”

Clint looks over the wall for only a few seconds before he points to one portrait in particular. “That one.” He grins at Steve. “How the heck did you get him to agree to pose for you?”

Steve blushes. “I dunno. He just said yes.”

Clint gives him a _look_. “Sure.”

“Shut up,” Steve says again.

Clint laughs. “Well it’s good,” he says. Then he pauses, eyes catching on something on the other side of the room. “Well well,” he says smugly. “Look who it is.”

“What?” Steve looks in the direction that Clint is. His heart swoops. “Oh, shit.” It’s Bucky. 

“D’you give him an invitation too?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “Um… no. I mean I mentioned it to him. Forever ago. I didn’t think he’d actually show up.”

Clint huffs. “Well don’t look now but he’s headed this way.”

Steve gapes.

“Hey, I’ll catch you later!”

“What? Clint, wait! Don’t leave me alone with—” he cuts off as Clint scoots away and Bucky approaches. He’s looking at Steve happily and Steve’s guts twist with nerves. He hadn’t expected Bucky to be here to see his art. “…Hey,” he says cautiously as Bucky walks up. “You came.”

“You bet I did’.” Bucky winks, and it’s clear he’s taking advantage of a double-entendre. Steve blushes massively.

“You didn’t’ have to,” he says. “I um, it’s not actually a showcase for me. My professors just gave me permission to put some of my stuff up.”

Bucky hums. “Looks pretty good to me,” he says. His eyes are already roaming over the dozen or so pieces that Steve has on the wall. “Really good, actually.” He moves from looking at the streetscape Steve had done early in the Semester down to the portrait of himself. “Wow,” he says quietly. “I never saw the finished product.” He turns to look at Steve. His eyes are warm and full of affection, and it makes Steve gulp. “You sure did make me look better than I actually do.”

“What?” Steve says. “No I didn’t. That’s exactly what you look like.”

Bucky makes a noise of disagreement but he gives Steve a smile anyway. “Maybe to you,” he says. Steve’s about to argue with him further because he hates to hear Bucky talk about himself that way, but Bucky beats him to it, saying, “I’m glad that’s what you see, you know?” He’s looking at Steve in that tender way that he does. It always makes Steve feel warm and bashful, and now is no exception.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“You’re an incredibly talented artist Steve. This is amazing.”

If Bucky is trying to make him melt into the floor, he’s doing a halfway decent job of it. Steve clears his throat. “So… thanks for coming,” he says.

“Yeah. I wanted to. I wanted to see your stuff and I... I also was trying to find time to see you alone,” he says.

“You were?”

“Yeah I uh, well I have some news. Wanted to tell you first.” Bucky’s looking at Steve seriously and it makes him curious.

“What is it?”

“Well, I got a job,” Bucky says.

“…What?” Steve is confused. “But you have a job.”

Bucky winces, looks down at the floor. “Yeah. I’m leaving the House,” he says. He looks up at Steve as if he’s afraid to see his reaction. “Got an uncle who died. He left me his automotive business. M’gonna go manage it.”

Steve is stunned. His heart is already sinking and he isn’t so sure that it doesn’t show on his face. “Oh,” he says. “I see.”

“It’s good,” Bucky says, though he sounds pretty sad. He’s sure looking at Steve sorrowfully. “The garage already has a bunch of great mechanics, so it doesn’t even matter that I don’t know squat about fixing cars.” He chuckles. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even learn a thing or two.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He tries not to wince at how unenthusiastic it sounds. “That’s… great. Really great.” He attempts a smile even though his heart is sinking at the prospect of losing Bucky. “I’m happy for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirk. “Not gonna miss me?”

“…You know I am.” Steve averts his eyes. “But I’m happy for you. It’ll be good. You’ll make a ton of money, what with all the people who’re buying cars now.” It’s true, city folks have no need for cars in Steve’s opinion, but that doesn’t change the fact that in the past few years it’s basically become commonplace for seemingly everyone to own a car. He offers up another smile at Bucky, this one a little more successful. “Bet you’ll be glad to be rid of all of us, huh?” The joke falls flat.

“Shit Steve, don’t say that. Gonna make me feel even worse about leaving.”

“Sorry.”

Bucky shoves his hands into his pockets. “So,” he says. “You want to give me a tour around here?” He nods to all of the other art displays that crowd the room.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Pushing down his sorrowful feelings at the news that Bucky will be leaving him soon, Steve moves to show Bucky around. If he cant stop feeling sad about what Bucky's just told him, well that's his business and noone else's.


	3. Christmas Eve

Steve wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, needing to use the bathroom. He’s careful to get up quietly, not wanting to wake his roommate, until he glances over and sees the carefully-tucked in sheets of Clint’s bed. _Oh_ , he remembers. _Right_. Clint’s gone off to Connecticut with Natasha for the holidays. Steve frowns, once again feeling jealous and then guilty for the jealousy. He should be happy for his friend, and he _is_. But it’s just that a lot of people get special permission to leave the House during the holidays and it’s the time of year when Steve most wishes that he could be one of them. But he’s got no one to visit. Sighing, he gets his slippers on and leaves the room.

To get to the boy’s bathroom one has to pass by the hall’s common area. Steve trudges along the linoleum floor, half awake. He gets to the bathroom and grits his teeth at having to pull himself out to take a piss in the cold air. He washes his hands half-heartedly and trudges back out of the bathroom. One glance out the nearest window shows that for once the weather predictions have turned out to be right. There’s snow falling outside, already built up on the street with a heavy curtain of flakes still falling. If it keeps up like this it might turn out to be a blizzard, Steve thinks. He gets to the common area, which is still decorated by the too-big tree and the tinsel and paper snowflakes that Wanda and Darcy had hung from every available surface. A lot of the tinsel has fallen to the floor, and plastic cups and napkins from that evening’s Christmas party sit abandoned on all the tables and windowsills. Steve snorts at the mess.

“Steve?” 

Steve’s eyes shoot to the side. Bucky’s there, sitting slumped in the room’s big squishy armchair—the one that Steve himself usually prefers. “Oh,” Steve says, surprised. “I didn’t know you were out here.” Beside Bucky, the Firestone is playing Christmas tunes quietly.

“What’re you still doing up?” Bucky asks, yawning even as he says it.

“Going to the bathroom,” Steve says, thumbing over his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom. He shuffles over to Bucky, taking a seat on the ottoman in front of the squishy chair. 

“What time is it?” Bucky asks sleepily. In his hand he’s got a mostly-drunk cup of what looks like eggnog, and he lifts it to his lips to take a big sip. Steve huffs.

“Close to one o’clock,” he tells him. “What the heck are you still doing here?” He glances at the window, to where the snow is still falling heavily. “Storm’s pretty bad. If you don’t get out soon you’ll probably be stuck in the city past Christmas Day.”

Bucky shrugs, takes another little sip of his drink. “I don’t have anyone to visit anyways,” he mutters. “I’m just going to go back to my apartment.” 

Steve is taken aback at that. He’s even more taken aback at the way his heart clenches at the thought of Bucky being alone for the holidays. “You… don’t have any family to go see?” he asks.

“The ones who matter are all dead.”

Steve’s heart sinks. “Oh, Bucky…”

“S’no big deal,” Bucky says. “I’m used to it by now.”

Steve absolutely _hates_ that. He reaches out and covers Bucky’s hand with his. It’s his metal one, but Bucky doesn’t flinch or pull back in the way he might once have done. “I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly. “I don’t have anyone to go visit either.”

“Well we’re a couple of sorry saps, aren’t we Rogers?”

Steve huffs but nods. Then, “…What happened to calling me Stevie?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up, and suddenly all the tension of what’s been going on between them snaps back into place. Steve gulps but he doesn’t back down, just waits for Bucky to answer his question. “You… I thought you didn’t like that,” Bucky says. He twists his lips, looking embarrassed. “You’re not my Stevie. S’what you told me.”

Steve feels guilt swirl through his stomach at that. “Yeah,” he admits. “Yeah I did.” Between them, he squeezes Bucky’s hand. “But I don’t mind so much anymore. You could call me that… if you wanted to.”

The look on Bucky’s face changes at that. His eyes grow warm and happy and get just a little bit bluer. The look is so pretty on him that Steve thinks he’d tell Bucky he could call him Stevie every day of the week, if he could just get to see the alpha looking that pleased all the time. “Yeah?” Bucky says, smiling now.

“Yeah.”

They’re both quiet for a long moment, the only sounds that of the wind outside and the scratchy tune of _Silent Night_ coming from the radio. Then Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand and pulls back, sitting up straighter. He sets his cup aside. “Here,” he says, reaching over to the floor to pick up a small, wrapped package. “I uh, I got you something.” He twists his lips, looking bashful as he holds it out. “Merry Christmas.”

Steve can’t help the wide smile that splits his face; it just appears. “Oh,” he says, taking it. The paper is candy-cane patterned and sloppily done. Bucky has obviously wrapped it himself. “I—thank you. I didn’t know you were going to get—I mean you didn’t have to—”

“Shut up will ya?” Bucky says. “You chipped in for the watch, didn’t you?”

Steve blushes. Purposefully not looking at the rather expensive timepiece that now graces Bucky’s right wrist. He’d chipped in more than he ever wants Bucky to know. “Um, yeah,” he mumbles. “But that was from all of us.” They’d given Bucky his present earlier in the evening, during the party. Wanda had been the one to hand it over along with the card, and Steve had kept himself back by the edge of the room for the whole affair. Steve looks down self-consciously at the gift in his hands. Bucky definitely hadn’t gotten everyone on the hall their own gift. It makes Steve feel awkward and happy that his alpha has gone through the trouble of getting him something. He doesn’t even really care what it is, just that Bucky had thought of him.

“Well?” Bucky pokes. “You gonna open it or just stare all night?”

Steve huffs, but his fingers do start to rip open the paper. Underneath is a metal tin of what the label says are an assortment of twenty fine-tipped drawing pens. Steve purses his lips right away, because he recognizes the brand name and he knows it can’t have been cheap. “Buck,” he nearly whispers, “This is…” he’s planning on saying, “too much,” but what comes out is, “Great!” He looks back up to Bucky with shining eyes. “How’d you know what to pick out?” 

“Eh,” Bucky shrugs. “Lucky guess.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah right.” He looks back down to the pens, then up to Bucky again. A sudden wave of affection sweeps through him, and he finds himself desperately wanting to kiss the other man. He blushes and sets the case aside, scooting the ottoman closer to Bucky’s legs and taking his hand again. “You did good,” he tells him quietly.

Bucky smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s eyes soften, looking at Steve like he’s happy and sad at the same time. He gives Steve’s fingers a little squeeze and then drops them with a sigh. “Well good. I’m glad you like ‘em. I uh, I better head out though.” He glances briefly to the windows. “Not gonna make it back to my apartment if I stick around much longer.” 

He makes to stand and Steve realizes with a jolt how much the thought of Bucky trudging out into the cold, just to go back to his empty apartment, hurts his heart. He stands up right after Bucky and goes over to stop him from grabbing his coat off the hook. “Wait,” he says, realizing too late that he hasn’t any idea what he’s going to say. Bucky gives him a questioning stare and Steve swallows heavily. “I uh, I…”

“Steve?”

Steve firms his resolve and looks back up at Bucky. “You don’t have to go home,” he says, voice coming out quieter than he means for it to. 

“I don’t?” 

“No.” If Steve is blushing six ways to Sunday, it’s nobody’s business but his own. He reaches up and puts his hand flat against Bucky’s chest. “It’s a damned blizzard out there. You could stay here. You could stay with me.”

Bucky’s lips part. “Oh, Steve I—”

“Clint’s gone,” Steve rushes, afraid that Bucky’s about to turn him down. “Almost everyone’s gone. You can stay.”

Bucky inhales deeply—Steve can feel it beneath his hand. “Is that what you want?” he eventually says, sounding careful. His flesh fingers come up and hold Steve’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You want me to stay?”

Steve nods, feeling shaky and scared and elated, because it’s obvious that Bucky’s going to agree. “Yeah,” he nearly-whispers. “I want you to stay …with me.”

Bucky’s exhale is a puff of warmth between them, and then he’s kissing Steve, pulling him into his arms and pressing their lips together softly. Steve sighs into it before he can help it. Once Bucky has pulled back and smiled at him in a way that Steve _never_ wants to forget, he slips their hands together again and leads him down the hall in the direction of his room.

-

Steve shuts the door softly behind himself, and when he turns around Bucky is standing in the middle of the darkened room, looking like he doesn’t quite know what to do. Steve stares, taken aback yet again by how handsome he is. Steve never thought he’d get the chance to be with someone as perfect as Bucky and yet here he is, standing in the middle of his and Clint’s threadbare carpet, looking like he’s waiting for Steve to tell him what to do. Steve licks his lips and steps closer. “What are we gonna do?” he asks.

Bucky’s lips quirk. “Whatever you want to do, Stevie. You’re the one who asked me in here.”

“Hm, yeah.” Steve’s heart beats a little faster at hearing Bucky call him ‘Stevie’ again. It makes him glad that he said Bucky could call him that. He stops when he’s right in front of Bucky, their chests nearly touching. His fingers twitch where they hang by his sides, wanting to touch. “I want to be with you,” he says quietly, voice barely a breath between them. He thinks of that night several weeks ago, when he’d pulled Bucky into his bed and jerked him off, how he’d let Bucky press him down into the mattress and rub their bodies together until they came. The memory makes him feel hot all over. Steve reaches out and puts his hands on Bucky’s hips, hooking his thumbs over the top of his pants and pulling them flush against each other. “I want you to stay here with me tonight and I wanna… I want you to…” he hears Bucky exhale and his eyes shoot up, acutely aware of the other man’s reaction. “Do you want that?”

Bucky smiles at him, a tender and happy thing. He doesn’t look nervous the way that Steve feels and Steve is jealous of him for that. He knows that Bucky isn’t a virgin. “I want to be with you too Steve,” he says. “In more ways than one.” He bends to kiss him at the corner of his mouth. “So yeah, I want to. I want whatever you want to give me.”

Steve exhales shakily and turns his face so that Bucky is kissing him for real. Their lips skim over each others in the barest touch, before Steve feels Bucky’s fingers grip his sides and pull him closer, his lips slotting over his own and pressing firmly. Steve sighs and gives into it. It feels right. It feels like relief. “Oh,” he sighs when Bucky pulls back the barest bit. “Buck, I—”

“What?” Bucky asks him, hands running over him. “What is it?”

“I want you,” Steve breathes. “I’ve wanted you to stay. I want—” He leans forward with his eyes closed, head tipped up and searching blindly for Bucky’s mouth, needing to feel the pressure of it against his lips again. He feels stupid and unable to articulate. He hopes that Bucky knows anyway, knows what he’s thinking about. “Bucky, please.” He kisses his chin, his cheek. He rubs his body against the front of Bucky, presses his face into the warm join of his neck. “Please, please.”

Against him, Bucky shudders. His breath is a hot rush against Steve’s ear. “God, Steve. Anything. I’ll give you anything you want.” His hands grip him harshly, fingers digging in as if he never wants to let him go. “I’ve wanted you for so damned long.”

“Really?” 

“Uh huh. You never gave me the chance Steve. You always push me away.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Steve is kissing at Bucky’s jaw, feeling frantic with the need to touch, to drive all those bad memories away with the press of their bodies. “God, I’m sorry.”

Bucky groans when Steve’s teeth scrape against his neck, just below where his scent gland is. “Still want to be your alpha,” he says, voice coming out like gravel. He grabs Steve by his upper arms and uses that hold to push him away some, so that their eyes can meet. “You want that?”

Steve frowns, blinking away his hazy, lust-blown thoughts. “I…” he falters. Bucky’s asking him again, asking him that damned question that’s getting harder and harder to say no to. That question that scares him. “I want you to make love to me,” he says instead, meeting Bucky’s eyes and giving him what he hopes is an imploring expression. “I want to, with you.”

Bucky’s eyes go heavy with want. “You do?”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods. 

“Stevie…” Bucky brings one hand up and thumbs over the side of his face. “Have you ever?”

Steve would blush, but he’s done far more intimate things with Bucky than admit that he’s a virgin, so he shakes his head minutely, brave enough not to avert his eyes. “No.”

Bucky smiles at him, leans in and kisses him so sweetly that Steve knows he never has to worry about this man hurting him. Never in a million years. “Kay,” Bucky says softly into his skin once their mouths are parted. He reaches down and pulls on the soft fabric of Steve’s tee, waiting until he raises his arms and allows it to be removed. Bucky hugs him against his body again, fingers running up and down his back, his ribcage. He puts his mouth against Steve’s hair and tells him, “Lay down on the bed honey.”

That _does_ make Steve blush. Bucky’s never called him that before. But he find that he likes it, likes the proprietary feeling that it makes bloom in his chest, so he doesn’t say anything in protest. Instead, he backs away from Bucky, goes over and lowers himself to lay on his bed. He shivers from how the sheets have gone cool in the night air. “Get undressed,” he commands softly, voice only slightly betraying how nervous he feels. “And come here.”

Bucky smiles. “Okay.” He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His fingers move to undo his belt and Steve feels his mouth go dry at the sight. It clinks open, and soon Bucky’s shucking his pants off as well, left only in his shorts. Steve wiggles impatiently, not liking the distance between them. Bucky chuckles at his impatience and comes over. He sits down next to Steve, using his metal hand to press against his scrawny chest, press him flat against the bedcovers. But he doesn’t lower himself down. Instead he just stares, looking his fill.

Steve blushes harder and whines. “Buckyyy,” 

“Shush. I want to look at you.”

Steve huffs. “Look at what?” he complains.

Bucky flicks him on the chest, but it’s teasing. “You. You’re so pretty. So delicate.” He runs his hands over Steve’s skin, dragging the pads of his fingers over his chest and his stomach, making goosebumps pop up. “Want to kiss every inch of you,” he confesses.

“God, shut up and come here.” Steve pulls Bucky down by his shoulders, connecting their mouths again and reveling in the way that it makes Bucky groan against him. He can feel the reverberations through their chests. Bucky shifts without breaking the kiss, climbing up onto the bed so that he can lay on top of Steve. Steve parts his legs for him, letting Bucky fall into the cradle of them. “There,” he breathes when Bucky is looking down at him again. “This is good.”

Bucky smirks. “Yeah we’ve been here before, haven’t we?” He lets his hips roll down, his arousal evident through the thin layers of his underwear and Steve’s sleep pants. “You gonna let me do more tonight?”

Steve groans, he can’t help it. “Yes,” he breathes. “I want you to. Want to do everything with you Buck.” He surges up and kisses him, doesn’t just lay there the next time Bucky rolls his hips down. “God,” he says when their lips part again. One of his hands goes down to the top of Bucky’s boxers. “Get these off. Mine too.” He doesn’t have to give any more direction than that. Bucky obeys instantly, hands leaving Steve’s skin and sitting up so that he can get them both naked. When they are, he comes right back down, the warmth between their bodies doubled. “Oh,” Steve says when Bucky leans over him again, holds his shoulders and moves their hips together. “Oh Bucky yes. Oh please.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. He licks along the seam of Steve’s lips, eliciting a whine. “Gonna make you feel good Steve. Tell me what to do.”

Steve gulps, fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair. He pulls him there, using his grip to tilt his head back. Bucky moans at the feeling and it makes Steve smile, makes him feel powerful. He nips and licks at the skin of Bucky’s throat. “Want to suck you,” he says, not realizing how desperately he wants it until the words are out of his mouth. He _does_ want it. Wants to feel the hot, hard length of Bucky against his tongue. It isn’t something he’s done before and now he _wants_. it. God, he just wants. Wants everything. Wants it with Bucky. Above him, Bucky is giving little thrusts against his body. They’re both hard and leaking against the skin of each other’s bellies and Steve reaches down with the hand that isn’t currently tangled in Bucky’s hair, fingers finding and curling around his cock. He squeezes and draws his fist up, and Bucky groans.

“Oh, Stevie. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve pushes at him, gets him to roll over onto his back and lay out for Steve to have him. He has to take a moment just to stare, to appreciate the sight of Bucky beneath him like this. “God,” he says, voice full of wonder. “You’re gorgeous. Like some damned Greek god. Can’t believe you want me.”

“Shut up,” Bucky scolds, swatting at Steve but missing his mark. 

Steve only cackles. “Hold still,” he tells him, eyes dark and hands already finding his hipbones. He lowers himself down Bucky’s body, kissing the muscled plane of his stomach as he goes. “You’re so handsome, Buck,” he tells him once he’s got his lips at the crest of Bucky’s groin and can smell the thick scent of his arousal. “Smell so damned good.”

Bucky makes a noise like he’s about to say something in reply, but before he can get the words out Steve is taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Whatever Bucky had been about to say dissolves into a pleasured grunt, his hips stuttering upwards. “Oh, shit,” he curses.

Steve’s thin hands curl against his hipbones, pressing him down and holding him in place. He sucks lightly on Bucky’s cock, drawing away after a long second to look back up his body. “Your cock’s so pretty,” he says, breath wet against the length of him. He’s never seen him up close like this before. Always, it’s been Bucky tucked up tightly behind him, pleasuring him through his heat, or against his front that one time, rubbing off against one another. He’s never had his face down close to him like this and Steve savors it, presses his cheek against him and rubs like a cat. 

“Jesus Rogers,” Bucky groans from above. His eyes are heavy-lidded but still open, unable to look away. “You’re unbelievable.”

Steve feels pride well up in him and blushes. Bucky sounds like Steve is all he’s ever wanted, is looking at him like he’s all he’s ever wanted. Steve doesn’t know how to handle that and so he shoves his mouth down onto Bucky’s cock with enthusiasm and little finesse, taking him as far into his throat as he can. Above him, Bucky makes a punched-out noise and even the small weight of Steve’s hands on his hipbones can’t keep him from thrusting up on instinct. Steve chokes, overwhelmed. When his lips leave Bucky it’s with a slick ‘pop’ and a gasp.

“Sorry!” Bucky hisses, sounding more breathless than Steve feels. “M’sorry Stevie.”

“Shuddup,” Steve grunts, wrapping one hand around the base of him and surging down for more. He sucks him into his mouth, moving his tongue in ways that he hopes feels good for Bucky and wringing his hand along the base where he can’t reach. Bucky makes weak, aborted thrusts against him still but now it’s manageable, doesn’t throw Steve off his rhythm as he works him with his mouth and hands. Steve carries on, squeezing his eyes shut and soaking up the pleasured sounds that Bucky makes up above. It’s wonderful, and the knowledge that he’s making Bucky feel so good gets Steve harder, has him wiggling his own hips against the bed in an uncoordinated attempt to get some relief. It isn’t enough though, and after long minutes of sucking Bucky off he pulls back. 

Bucky’s eyes pop open, lust-blown and desperate. “Oh!” he cries, shivering. “Steve, Steve baby don’t stop.”

Steve smirks where Bucky can’t see at being called ‘baby’. He crawls back up his body, laying himself atop the warm breadth of him. Steve rubs downward, loving how big Bucky is beneath him, how strong. He wants to feel that body over top of his, caging him in and overwhelming him. Holding him, _taking_ him. He gets their faces right close together again and says, “I want more.”

Bucky pants against him for a second, then his hands appear on his sides again, holding him firmly. “Yeah?” he breathes. “Want me in you?”

Steve groans, lets his forehead thunk gracelessly onto Bucky’s shoulder. “Yeah, please. Want to feel you on top of me.”

Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice. He’s immediately flipping them over, hands rough and insistent on Steve where they hold him. “God,” he says, sounding wrecked. “Me too. Want to be in you. Want to feel you.” They both groan, panting against each other as Bucky reaches down with his flesh hand and strokes Steve, once, twice. Then he’s reaching down further, fingers finding the wetness between his cheeks and dipping into it. Steve keens.

“Oh, Bucky! Oh fuck. Yes. Please…”

Bucky kisses him gently, running his fingers along the crack of his ass and smearing the slick around. “What is it Sugar? Tell me what you want.”

Steve huffs and pushes his hips up, trying to get Bucky to press into him. “You _know_ what. Touch me, please. In me.”

Bucky kisses him again, and goddamn him, Steve can feel his smile against his lips. “You want my fingers, honey?”

“Guh, _yes_. Bucky please—ah!” Steve’s words cut off in a gasp as Bucky acquiesces and pushes a finger into him. “Oh!” he cries, wriggling his hips down onto the intrusion, trying to get more. “Yes, yesyes! Oh Bucky,”

Bucky huffs a laugh, thrusts his hips down so that his erection rubs on Steve’s leg, and kisses him harder. It takes Steve’s breath away almost as much as the finger in his ass had. “Yeah,” Bucky agrees, working his finger in shallow thrusts before adding another one. It’s little fanfare and it burns for just a second before Steve’s body is gushing more slick and relaxing right into it, opening up for Bucky’s touch like it’s been waiting for it. “Gonna make you feel so good, Stevie,” Bucky promises. He pumps his hand against Steve’s ass, curling his fingers and swallowing Steve’s cries when they find his prostate. He curls them over that spot, again and again, until Steve is shooting off, hot and wet between their bellies. “That’s it,” he soothes, not stopping his touches as Steve slows from his orgasm. He pulls his hand away, chuckling at the mournful sound Steve makes at the loss. “Shh, it’s okay.” He uses Steve’s slick to wet himself, then guides his cock back. “Lift up for me baby,” he says, using his metal hand to lift Steve’s hips the way he wants them. Steve gives a shuddery exhale at the feeling of him against his entrance.

“Oh, Bucky, mm.”

“ _God_.” Bucky presses in, eyes never leaving Steve’s own, watching the pinch of his face and the part of his lips, ready to stop at the barest hint of displeasure. “You okay?” he asks when he’s barely inside of him.

Steve’s nod is immediate and frantic. “Yes, oh, yes. Bucky. Don’t go, don’t stop.” Bucky chuckles, pushing Steve’s leg around his hip and coming down to lay on top of him. He moves his hips, thrusts into him until they’re as close as they can be. Until he’s all the way inside of Steve. Steve moans. “God. Oh, Bucky.”

“Good?” 

“Mm’yeah.” Steve peeks his eyes open, lashes clumped together by wetness. “So good.” He exhales shuddery and presses up against him. “Move, please. Make love to me.”

Bucky’s heart clenches with something much bigger than he knows what to do with. He surges down and kisses Steve fiercely, trying to force all the weight of what he feels for him through the kiss. Steve whimpers and holds him tightly, rocks his hips up in silent request for more. Bucky listens, pulling out once and thrusting back in. The sound Steve makes at that is perfect, his body clenching around Bucky in a way that feels like heaven. Bucky holds Steve in his arms and starts to rock their bodies together, retreating and then coming back into Steve, over and over again. 

It feels like coming home.


End file.
